Defensive Heart: The Donnolleys, Book 2

by Dorothy F. Shaw

  She probably thought he was an immature ass. And she hadn’t let him forget for a second their difference in age. Regardless, based on her physical reaction to him, the only thing he was sure of was that she wanted him. At least sexually.

  Problem was, for the first time since college and the dreadful experience with his ex-girlfriend, Jimmy might want more than just sex. It was a desire he wasn’t certain he should entertain, yet it blasted through his mind like a rocket nonetheless.

  After getting cleaned up, he headed for the pub. He covered the twelve blocks to Bleecker Street by foot and found his best friend sitting at the bar, nursing a dark amber ale of some sort. Jimmy put his arm around Andy and gave her a chaste peck on the lips. “Hey, doll.”

  “Hi there. I ordered some wings.” Her blue eyes sparkled in the dim light of the bar.

  “Sweet. I’m starved.”

  They moved to one of the wooden booths in the back of the bar. This was Jimmy’s favorite pub. It was a unique one in the Village, and had been in business for over thirty years. Looking around the dark-paneled walls, he admired, not for the first time, the various bottle-cap art decorating them, the gorgeous stained-glass windows and the many carvings made by patrons in the rustic wooden tabletops.

  A table full of college-aged guys erupted into a fit of hoots and hollers complete with high fives, drawing his attention. Apparently playing a game of quarters. Jimmy shifted in the booth and leaned his back against the wall. Good conversation and laughs were exactly what he needed.

  Andy was his friend—his best friend. He’d met her about two years ago and they’d been tied at the hip ever since. She was the person he spent his time with when not working. A twenty-six-year-old petite brunette with crystalline-blue eyes and a body a guy would follow anywhere. Skin covered in tattoos, and a few piercings, some visible some not. To some, she looked a little hard, but really, Andy was a complete sweetheart underneath the decorative canvas…and she happened to be a lesbian. Broke male hearts all over the state of New York, but he bet the lesbian community was damn glad to have her. God help him if his younger sister, Celia, ever caught sight of her.

  Jimmy swirled the shot in his hand before swallowing it in one gulp. Setting the glass next to the other empties, he excused himself and made his way to the men’s room. Stepping inside, he pulled out his cell. No messages from Sonja. A beat of impatience rolled through him. He was done waiting. Jimmy sighed, leaned against the sink and typed out a message letting her know where he was. Just the name of the bar, nothing more.

  Tucking his phone away, he handled business, washed his hands and went back out to join Andy. Fuck it. If Sonja continued to ignore him, he’d go to her office on Monday. He wanted to see her right now, but he’d suck it up and wait her out a little longer.

  Another round of beers arrived when Jimmy got back to the table. He was half buzzed already and at this rate he’d be stumbling home in another couple hours. Not the first time, probably not the last. Maybe he should find a cute college chickie to take home. A sour taste coated his tongue. Touching anyone besides his Sonja made his stomach fold in on itself. Jimmy coughed, then cleared his throat. His physical reaction shocked him. He’d never been a monogamous guy—not since he’d ended things with his ex, Gina, in college. Never bothered even trying to be in a committed relationship again after what had gone down between them.

  And here he was, not even fucking Sonja—yet—and he hadn’t looked at another girl all night. He was done for. Completely screwed without the actual screwing part. Shit.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Andy looked at him over the top of her beer glass.

  “I’m screwed.”

  “Define screwed?” She took a sip.

  Jimmy sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. “We need another shot. Fuck me, I need another shot.”

  “Holy shit, you met someone, didn’t you?”

  “What? Pshaw, no. What makes you think that?” Jimmy took a swig of his Guinness and tried to bury the anxiety springing up like a damn rocket.

  Andy leaned forward on her elbows, a grin pasted on her lips. “Dude, you’re strung out. I didn’t realize it before, but holy shit I see it now. Who is she?”

  “Heh. Look, I’m fine. Let’s get some more shots. You should call your girl; see if she wants to come hang out.”

  “Jimmy Donnelly, no fucking fair. I tell you stuff all the time. Come on!”

  He chuckled. “There isn’t anything to tell. But I promise, if there is you’ll be the first to know.” He winked at her and waved for the waitress. “More shots, Andy. More shots.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sonja sat at her long, cherry-wood dining table and sipped her wine, watching her daughter and ex-husband carry on what seemed like endless conversation about every topic under the sun. “Dinner is delicious. Thank you both again for cooking.” She smiled at her daughter and took another bite of her pasta.

  “You’re quite welcome, Sonja.” Thomas nodded, a casual smile on his face. She knew better than to take it as genuine or heartfelt.

  “Daddy and I love to cook together. It was fun.” Casey smiled…at her father.

  Sonja swallowed another sip of Chianti. She was glad her daughter loved her father so much, but jealousy still burned in her throat. Of course Casey loved him. He never did any of the heavy lifting. Even when they were married, he never disciplined their daughter. From the time Casey was born, he was intent on being the favorite. She supposed she should be grateful Thomas wasn’t like her own father—full of expectation and very little softness.

  Sonja’s father had expected more from her than any parent should. But, as a child, there wasn’t much she could do about it. She also knew deviating from his plan for her was out of the question. Thomas was very different from her father, and even though he made Sonja crazy with his lackadaisical parenting style, she knew he loved Casey. A fit of giggles burst from her daughter, drawing Sonja from her thoughts.

  “Mommy, did you hear what Daddy said? Oh my God, he’s so funny.”

  Sonja wiped her mouth with her napkin. “No, honey. I didn’t. Sorry.”

  “He said, we never really grow up, we—”

  Thomas raised a brow and drummed his fingers on the table. “Daydreaming? Not like you.”

  Tension wound its way up Sonja’s spine, making her neck ache. “Everyone daydreams, Thomas. Even you.”

  “Not really. Why bother dreaming when I can just take what I want.”

  “There’s no fun in always getting what you want. Sometimes the dream of it is better.” Careful to keep her tone even, Sonja set her napkin down on the table. “Please excuse me; I’ve got some work to do.”

  Thomas regarded her over his wine glass with a mocking smile. “Certainly. Work is very important.”

  “It is, yes.” She kissed Casey on the cheek. “When do you leave?” she asked Thomas.

  “Sunday. I moved my business meeting scheduled on Monday to today. Ready to be rid of me so soon?

  Casey shook her head and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Never, Daddy.”

  “Of course not. It’s always so nice when you visit.” Sonja forced a smile before leaving the room. She’d had enough, and there was work to do. But truth be told, being the third wheel whenever Thomas visited wasn’t high on her priority list. It was just easier to excuse herself and give them their time.

  Sonja settled by the fireplace in one of the high-back leather chairs in her study. A case folder wide open on her lap and a glass, along with a new bottle of Chardonnay, on the side table. She wasn’t reading the case file. It was one hell of a case too, and she had a load of work to do on it, yet instead, she sat reading and rereading the poem James texted her Wednesday night.

  He’d sent another message earlier that evening. Peculiar Pub was all it said. Obviously, he wanted her to come meet him. But she wasn�
��t going—wasn’t replying to the messages either. She’d never fit in down at that bar. For the love of all things sacred, it was filled with college students! There was no way she’d sit there and watch him tease and flirt with all those young girls. Talk about feeling out of place. It was bad enough in the company of all those twenty-somethings in the bar in Vegas; it’d be worse down the Village.

  Work. Yes, work. Sonja focused on the file spread open on her lap and tried to read through the evidence the state was bringing against her client. She looked up at the glowing blaze in the fireplace and listened to the distant laughing of Thomas and her daughter. Sadness bloomed in her chest and a lump rose in her throat. Why couldn’t she have a relationship like that with Casey? Why was it so damn hard? Sonja picked up her wine glass and swallowed a large mouthful—forcing it past the swelling of emotion in her throat—and poured more from the bottle. Friday night was a fine night to lock herself in her study, get drunk and have a little pity party. A perfectly fine night. The weekend was going to be hell.

  Still unable to focus, Sonja set the file aside. Stepping to the tall bookshelf lining one wall in the room, she perused the titles. Most of the books were her father’s. Though, since she’d taken over the house, she’d added many of her own. Several shelves were filled with countless law books, but there was also some classic literary fiction. Even a few romance novels. She chuckled, finding some old favorites tucked in a far corner. She’d been a huge Nora Roberts fan during college and read many of her trilogies. She’d loved them. The idea of a happily-ever-after and endless love was a beautiful fantasy, but that time in her life was long gone now. It’d been replaced by harsh expectations and even harsher realities—a little something called life. Sadness blanketed her vision. Sonja didn’t read anymore unless it was a law book or a case file.

  She took a seat with one of the paperbacks and thumbed through the yellowed pages. So much creativity packed onto a page. The thought of it brought James to mind…again. Had he finished that piece of art he’d been working on? What would he be creating next? She grabbed her cell phone and read the texts again. She sighed and rested her head against the back of the chair. He’d written her a poem. A beautiful one.

  Was he talking to another woman right this moment, or was he thinking of her as she was of him? Clearly she’d been on his mind at some point several hours ago. Was she still? She wouldn’t call him though. No matter how hard he tried to convince her he wanted her. Even if he did want her, it was just for sex. The night in his studio played in her mind. The feel of his strong hands on her body, the taste of his lips and the way his body felt pressed against hers. His thigh between her legs and the solid erection pressed to her hip, straining behind his jeans.

  Sonja groaned and crossed her legs. Mere thoughts of him sent her body into overdrive and her libido rose to attention. Her clit pulsed and she squeezed her thighs together, moaning at the slight pressure. She could have sex with him. Sonja pursed her lips and then sipped her wine. She wanted to have sex with him.

  Eyeing the clock, she rose, taking the bottle of wine and glass with her, and headed for her bathtub. A little time with her showerhead was what she needed to take the edge off. The house had gone quiet, and she assumed Thomas and her daughter had turned in for the night.

  Sonja entered her dim bedroom. The hall light cast a shadow over the king-size, antique four-poster bed…and the silhouette of a figure beneath the blankets. Crap. Thomas was in her bed. Not like she hadn’t expected it, but maybe in a naïve way hoped for once he wouldn’t be there.

  She tiptoed past the bed into her bathroom suite and shut the door, locking it behind her. Sonja set her phone and wine down on the counter, lit a few candles and turned on the water to fill the tub. The shrill ring of her cell startled her and she jumped, clutching her chest. Didn’t it figure she’d get a call from the service on a late Friday night? Technically Saturday, but who cared at that point.

  Wait…was she even on call tonight? Sonja reached for the phone and saw clearly who was calling, and it wasn’t the off-hours phone service. She sat on the satin settee near the tub, wine glass in hand. “This is Sonja.”

  “Did you miss me?”

  She smiled. “Who is this?”

  “Yeah, you missed me.” He chuckled.

  The sound of his laugh trickled over her skin and she shivered as she stretched out on the settee. “Did you finish your piece of art?”

  “I did. Was hoping you would’ve come to help me celebrate. Did you get my text?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “Congratulations on finishing. Will you be compensated well for it?”

  “I will. Thanks. Did you get my text the other night?”

  Sonja hesitated. Not knowing what to say. Just say yes. But if she said yes, he’d want to talk about it, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to address it.

  “You still there?”

  “Yes, James. I’m here.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “It was a beautiful and erotic poem.”

  “Every word was true.”

  She ignored his statement. “I didn’t know you wrote poetry.”

  “Comes with the whole artist package.”

  “Yes, I suppose that makes sense. No one’s ever written me a poem before. But I bet you write them for a lot of women, don’t you?”

  “Woman, you wound me again.”

  She laughed. “Oh come on, James. You take me for a fool?”

  “Nope. I haven’t taken you at all. Yet.”

  A small gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it, and she was sure her cheeks glowed red. She rolled her eyes. He couldn’t see her through the phone, so it didn’t matter. “You really think you’ll get me in bed?”

  “Positive.”

  Instinct told her he was serious. Common sense told her he’d had plenty to drink too. Maybe he was right. Maybe he would get her into bed, but then what? “Have you been drinking, Mr. Donnelly?”

  “Yes, but that has nothing to do with this. Have you?”

  She picked up her wine glass and touched the edge to her lips. “I have, yes.”

  “When you call me Mr. Donnelly it excites me in a way I can’t explain. You say it in your special lawyer tone.”

  “I don’t have a lawyer tone.”

  “Oh, but you do, Sonja. You do. Makes me envision you with nothing but a bra and panties, garters and stockings like you had on the other day, and those five-inch fuck-me pumps on your feet. You’d be clutching a riding crop in your hand too.”

  The image his words inspired had her stomach tightening and a shot of lust zinged straight to her clit. Heaven and hell, was he nuts? “James…” She swallowed. “That’s…” Sonja pressed the cool wine glass to her forehead and raised her knees on the settee.

  “That’s what, Sonja?” His voice had deepened, sounding raspier than normal with almost a purr to it.

  “No one’s ever said things like that to me before. I don’t know whether to slap you or sleep with you.”

  “What if I said you could do both?”

  “Then I’d say you were crazy, and I should keep away from you. Maybe file a restraining order.”

  “You won’t though. You know why?”

  She could hear the smile in his voice and couldn’t help but smile too. Getting up, she turned off the water spilling into the tub. “You’re going to tell me anyway, so get on with it.”

  “Because you want me as bad as I want you. Because you want to feel my lips on yours again. Because you want to feel my hands on your soft body too.” He groaned. “Because you want to feel my hot mouth while I suck your nipples and then taste every inch of your creamy skin.”

  Sonja sat back down. “Holy hell.”

  “Admit it, just once. It’s just you and me and we’re a little drunk. Say, it Sonja. Tell me you want me, please.”

  “And what happens if I do? W
ill you go away and stop bothering me?”

  “Never.”

  “What do you want from me? Why on earth could you, or would you, want me? James, you’re so young…and sexier than a man has a right to be. Why would you waste your time on me?”

  “I told you what I wanted. Now, say it, Sonja. I even said please.”

  “Even if I say it, admit what you think needs admitting, it means nothing. You realize that, right? It changes nothing, James.”

  “Say it.”

  His whispered words came through the receiver and she shivered again, almost completely under his spell. Almost. If she gave in and admitted she wanted him it might make a difference. But she meant what she said. It wouldn’t change a thing. She swallowed the last of her wine. “I want you. I want all those things you mentioned. And more. And now I’m going to bed. Good night.”

  Intent on not hearing his reply, she disconnected the call. Sonja didn’t want to know what might come out of his mouth next or, heaven help her, she might find herself in a cab and on her way to his apartment. Her entire body pulsed with arousal and her breath came in short bursts. Yes, dammit. I want you! She eyed the bath, then looked toward the closed door leading through her closet to her bedroom.

  With a shake of her head, she set the wine glass on the counter and unplugged the drain in the tub. After blowing out the candles, she opened the bathroom door and moved to the doorway leading to her bedroom. As she stared into the darkness of her room, her ex-husband shifted in her bed and the sound of his soft breaths reached her ears.

  Without a doubt, if she propositioned him, Thomas would make love to her tonight. He’d use her to fill his ego and further prove his point. She hated the idea of it, hated herself more for even considering sex with him again. But tonight, she’d use him instead. Sonja would be in control. For once she’d get what she needed—even if it wasn’t by the man she truly wanted it from.